


Two Opposites Make A Whole

by Hannibal_X_Will



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, BBC, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Love, M/M, Revelations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannibal_X_Will/pseuds/Hannibal_X_Will
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the moment in 3.01 in the tube car with the bomb should have gone! JOHNLOCK <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Opposites Make A Whole

**Author's Note:**

> My first Sherlock fic so please be kind <3 Sorry if there are any mistakes. Has a lot more angst in it than I intended!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock in anyway*

"Of course I forgive you," John said, the tears getting caught in his throat and his voice finally broke.

He closed his eyes and braced himself for the bomb to explode. He couldn't bare to look on Sherlock's tear-streaked face, he couldn't bare it to be the last time he ever saw his dearest friend. _One more miracle_ , he had got his wish, but for such a cruel amount of time. Sherlock's was alive, they were together again - _just the two of them against the rest of the world_ \- but it was all about to end. So soon...too soon. They were to die - fail in saving hundreds of lives.

John heard Sherlock move towards him, yet he couldn't open his eyes, couldn't look upon his face. He wanted the last thing he ever saw to be darkness, for that was what awaited him, so why fool himself?

The feeling of warmth suddenly enveloped John and he gasped. _Was that it? The heat of the exploding bomb? Am I dead?_

No, it as Sherlock wrapping his long arms around his shorter frame. John Watson wasn't the physical-show of affection type, neither was Sherlock. There were many times where John wondered if his friend even felt emotion like everyone else. But, then again, Sherlock Holmes was not like everyone else. He was brilliant, unique, surprising, frustrating, infuriating...uncontrollable.

John sank into the warmth, let himself raise his arms and wrap them around Sherlock's waist. His friend held him close, so tight that it almost hurt, but John found he didn't care. They were together, as they were meant to be in all things, even in death.

"John," Sherlock whispered his name, his breath tickling the top of John's head, "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," he murmured back, his face buried in the warm fabric of his friend's long black coat, "I said I forgave you and I meant it, Sherlock."

"No," the taller man said quickly, his arms around John's shoulders loosening, "I mean I'm sorry for not doing this sooner."

John drew back, his arms dropping to his sides, "doing what, Sherlock?"

Suddenly, Sherlock's large hands were cupping his face and the dark-haired detective was leaning towards him. Their lips met and Sherlock immediately took control, putting everything into the kiss. John tasted his friend's desperation and anguish in the saltiness of his tears and he shuddered. So much regret flowed between them, so many wasted years and moments, all because they had been too blind, to unwillingly, to frightened to admit what had always been they between them.

A rush of anger flooded John's veins at their fate, _why did they deserve this?_ _To lose each other when they had just truly found one another?_ John stepped back into the circle of Sherlock's arms, pressing himself into his friend's lean body. They fitted together so well, tall and short, broad and lean.

Kissing Sherlock back, John lifted his hands and buried them in the detective's dark curls, their softness making him tremble. He felt weak, lost, like he was lost at sea and too exhausted to stay afloat. If it wasn't for Sherlock then he felt he would slip away into nothingness. Sherlock was his anchor, his best friend, his...

Sherlock broke the kiss, his long delicate fingers traced John's cheek, the lines in his skin, soothing the tension across his brow.

"I think it's time you asked for another miracle, John," Sherlock breathed, meaning the bomb. The detective resting his forehead against the ex-army doctor's and stared into the eyes he loved so dearly.

"I don't need to," John murmured, he knew there was no way his prayer could stop the bomb, "I already has everything I could ever wish for."

John laid his hand against Sherlock's neck, he felt his pulse beneath his finger tips - steady, in-control, _how fitting_. Sherlock was looking at John as if he was seeing him for the very first time. A warm peace overcame John and he hugged Sherlock to him, unwillingly to let him go in the few seconds they had left together.

"John," Sherlock said, his voice wavered next to his ear, as if he was worried about his reaction, "there's an off switch."

His head snapping around towards the bomb and John saw the red digit numbers had stopped counting down. Slowly, his mind struggling to catch up with the reality he had been certain he as about to leave, John looked back at Sherlock. The detective was trying not to smirk, John could feel his laugh trembling in his chest pressed to his own body.

"You...utter gigantic bastard!" John yelled.

Sherlock braced himself for John's fist to collide with his face but instead his friend caught hold of his coat collar and yanked his face down for a bruising kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a comment :) <3


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